


Where Lovers Are Made

by emmbrancsxx0



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmbrancsxx0/pseuds/emmbrancsxx0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur takes his nephew, Mordred, to a birthday party at Build-A-Bear Workshop, he meets a certain blue-eyed, dark-haired employee with a seemingly perceptual grin; but it turns out Merlin isn’t always smiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Lovers Are Made

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the BBC Merlin characters.

It took them nearly forty minutes to find parking. Eventually, Arthur had to leave the car in the depths of the underground car park, where he was sure some loitering teenagers would key it.

He wove through the masses of people—parents and children, thugs, bright young girls in tight outfits with dozens of plastic bags hanging from their arms—with Mordred jogging behind him to keep in stride. His little hand was grasped in Arthur's for safekeeping, and a gift was shoved under his armpit. The last thing Arthur needed was to lose him, even for five minutes, in the shopping centre. Morgana would never forgive him.

Mordred had been staying with Arthur for the passed three days, and would continue to do so into the next week, with his toys littered about the flat for Arthur to trip over and with bedtime stories and cartoons. All while Morgana was on holiday in Barbados with her favorite gal-pal, Morgause. It was a "no-boys" holiday, which meant no fiancé Cenred for Morgause and no Mordred or boyfriend Leon for Morgana. Meanwhile, Mordred's, for all intents and purposes, absent father (who, according to Morgana, "We don't ever speak about, Arthur!" Which was fine with Arthur. He never liked Val, anyway.) was away on business. That made Mordred Arthur's problem.

Not that Arthur saw his nephew as a problem, in particular, but he never knew what to do with kids. There was only so much macaroni and cheese Arthur could stomach, and only so much Wii Sports he could take, even though he was surprisingly exceptional at the boxing game. He was close with Mordred, always at Morgana's flat for dinner and holidays and on weekends. Mordred had slept over Arthur's flat a few times, too, but this was the first time he'd stayed at Arthur's for an extended period of time.

Children were harder to care for than they looked.

And one of the most difficult tasks Arthur had to deal with was taking Mordred to a Saturday night birthday party at Build-A-Bear Workshop. Arthur made it a rule to never step foot in any shopping centre, especially one right in the middle of London and  _especially_  on a weekend.

The things he did for family.

"Come on, we're nearly there," Arthur said as they stepped onto the ascending escalator. He gave Mordred's arm a jiggle and smiled down at him, trying not to seem annoyed when a woman shoved by him. "You excited?"

"Yeah," Mordred said, his bright blue eyes scanning the throng of people with interest.

"What are you going to build?"

Mordred shrugged. "I already have a ton of bears," he said thoughtfully, like this was a decision that really mattered in the grand scheme of things. "Last time, I made Mummy a kitty! And I made Dad a dog once."

"I bet they liked that," Arthur said when they reached the top. This floor wasn't any less crowded, but he could see the colorful storefront not far down.

"I hope they have a lion!" Mordred exclaimed happily. "For Leon!"

"Leon the Lion," Arthur considered aloud. "He'd love it!"

He didn't give away the small pang he felt in his chest that Mordred hadn't offered to make him anything. However, he tried to make himself feel better with the knowledge that Granddad Uther didn't have one, either. Arthur didn't even know what either of the Pendragon men would do with a stuffed bear. It would be a strange fit sitting in an office of a weapons manufacturing corporation. Somehow, Arthur thought the clients wouldn't take them very seriously.

When they reached Build-A-Bear, there were already about twenty children inside, accompanied by their parents, who were either helping the kids pick out animals or standing to the side and chatting. Mordred waved to a few of his classmates, until he saw the birthday girl: a little brunette named Kara. He released himself from Arthur and ran up to her immediately.

And Arthur was alone. He didn't know any of the adults there, so he pretended to look busy on his mobile until he ran out of plausible things to do. He looked around the shop, taking in the bright yellows and blues of the walls. In the back of the shop, there were three clear machines with white fluff that had settled to the bottom. There was also a little grooming station in the shape of a bathtub, and next to it was a wall of assorted miniature outfits and accessories. There was a row of ancient computers nearby the circular till in the center of the room. Over the register, a sign read, "Build-A-Bear Workshop: Where Best Friends Are Made!" in curvy, bubble-letter font.

Arthur looked over his shoulder at the crowded mall. There were a few pre-made animals in the storefront's window, and there was a massive mechanical bear that waved its paw up and down. It irked Arthur for a reason he could not figure out, so he looked back to Mordred. He was by the wall of un-stuffed animals, holding a limp golden-brown thing between his hands as he chatted with a group of kids. They were all holding deflated creatures that reminded Arthur of wild animals that had sprinted out onto the road and gotten run over by a car.

Scattered around the children, members of the party or not, were helpful employees. They wore tan kakis and bright blue shirts with the franchise's logo over it. Arthur wondered if their cheeks hurt from smiling so much, or if being an excessive smiler was part of the application process. Most of them wore grins that didn't quite reach their eyes, like they just wanted to get through their shift and then run to the nearest pub with their earnings. Arthur didn't blame them one bit.

But there was one employee that caught Arthur's eye. He seemed to stand out from the rest, and not just because he was taller than everyone else in the room. He had messy, raven-black hair and eyes that were quite a stunningly different blue than his uniform. Their corners wrinkled and his cheeks dimpled as his grin stretched from ear to ear. He looked genuinely happy as he knelt down and spoke to the children, and laughed playfully with them as they picked out their animals.

"Is everyone set?" he called out to the partygoers in a voice a lot deeper than Arthur would have expected from his gaunt frame. The children jumped up and down and shouted a collective, "Yeah!"

"What's that?" he said, cupping a hand over a ridiculously large ear.

"Yeah!" the kids shouted in unison, even louder.

If it was possible, the employee's smile grew. He gave an exaggerated wave towards the fluff machines and marched the group towards them. He told the kids to sit in a circle on the wooden floor, and, to Arthur's amazement, they listened.

Arthur took a few steps closer as the parents crowded around the children. He watched the employee take his seat on the metal stool next to one of the machines and beam down at the ten-year-olds. Arthur didn't know how he got them to be so accommodating without even saying a word. They all seemed memorized by him; even the adults had stopped talking. He was controlling them like a bloody pied piper.

"Birthday girl first!" he said cheerfully, waving her up. "Come on, Kara!"

The children clapped enthusiastically as the girl jumped up from the floor and bounced forward. She clutched a striped cat in her hands.

"And how old are you on your special day?"

"Ten," Kara said a little bashfully. "I turned ten on Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" the employee exclaimed like it was the single most interesting fact in the world. "Well, lucky you, getting to celebrate your birthday all week!" He nodded towards the animal in her hands. "Who's your new friend?"

"Her name is Aithusa," Kara said, hugging the piece of fabric. "She's gonna be a cheerleader!"

"Hello, Aithusa," the employee said as he gingerly took the cat from Kara. He pretended to inspect it, and he eventually pouted his lips to the side. "Mm. Just as I thought. Aithusa's not feeling well. She's gonna need a lot of love before the big game."

Kara giggled at him.

"But I have just the thing to make her right!" He opened the slit in the cat's back and placed it around the machine's nozzle. Then, he looked back at Kara. "Okay, birthday girl. Why don't you step on that pedal for me? Not too hard."

"Okay!" Kara obliged. The fluff in the machine started to whirl around, and the deflated cat began to bulge. The employee moved the fabric around to fill the legs, arms, and head. It seemed like muscle memory to him, and he glanced up as he did it. It was the only act that gave away that he might have been a normal human being outside the shop.

His glance found Arthur, and it lingered. His smile faded fractionally, into something less staged. Arthur wondered if this man even knew how to frown.

Arthur realized he was gawking back, so he stared down at his feet and cleared his throat.

The employee, too, remembered himself and his eyes snapped back to the plush toy. "Okay, stop!" he said, and the fluff floated back downwards as the pedal was released.

"Now, Kara, Aithusa's missing just one more thing," he said.

"A heart!" she exclaimed before he could.

He chuckled deeply. "That's right. Someone's been here before! Go ahead and pick one from the basket."

As she turned around to rifle through the silk hearts in the basket attached to the machine, the employee clapped his long fingers over his eyes and scrunched his face, as though to show he wasn't peeking.

"Got it!" she said, holding up a solid red heart.

"Great! You have to warm it up so it works. Rub it in your hands like this," he told her, giving a demonstration, and she did as he did. Next, he told her to place the heart on her forehead and make a wish for her new friend. When he had, she was instructed to place into the cat's back, and the employee pushed it through the stuffing until it was, or so he claimed, where it was supposed to be in the chest. Lastly, he stitched up the back and presented it to Kara.

"Aithusa's almost all ready to cheer," he said, "all she needs is a hug from her best friend."

Kara squeezed the stuffed animal tightly, and everyone clapped. When she sat down, the employee asked, "Who's next?"

Every child's hand flew into the air. "Me! Me! Me!" they called, some of them looking as though they could barely contain themselves. The employee covered his eyes again and waved his finger around, seeming to pick someone at random.

When all the animals were fluffed and their hearts were beating, the kids were sent to the grooming station. Arthur stood back against a wall with his arms folded loosely, watching as Mordred brushed his bear. Suddenly, he felt a new presence at his side, and he turned to find the dark-haired staff member next to him with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"How's it going?" he asked conversationally.

Arthur nodded. "Fine," he said shortly. "How are you?"

He shrugged and wrinkled his nose. "Not bad. Which one's yours?"

At first, Arthur didn't know what he was asking. He knitted his brows together before realizing. "Oh! No, I'm . . . I'm Mordred's uncle." He pointed in Mordred's direction. "That one, there."

The man's eyes lit up. "I know Mordred! He's a good kid."

"Yes, he is," Arthur agreed, deciding not to divulge how cranky he got after school or how insistent he could be when he wanted something. Instead, Arthur looked down at the nametag on the employee's chest. " _Mer_ lin," he said aloud, getting a feel for the name.

"That's me," Merlin sang.

"Arthur," Arthur introduced. He unfolded his arms to shake Merlin's hand. "So, um—How exactly did you get a group of ten-year-olds to sit still for an hour?" Arthur was still amazed by it. He'd never seen Mordred so patient. Even in his sleep, the child spoke and kicked up hurricanes.

"Hmm? What d'you mean?" Merlin asked, genuinely perplexed.

Arthur raised a brow, wondering if he was serious. He decided that he was. "Great, you're the child whisperer and you don't even know it. I was hoping for some pointers."

Merlin laughed again. It sounded musical. "Nah, you just have to get on their level. They'll listen."

"Easy for you to say. You were their age, what? Three years ago?"

Merlin pouted his lips in mock-thought. "Two, actually," he played along.

Arthur's mobile buzzed on his hip, and he slid it out of the holster to check the caller ID. It was Gwen. She never called on the weekends unless it was important.

"Excuse me, I have to take this," Arthur said, thumbing the call button and holding the phone to his ear. "Guinevere?" His face was already lined with worry.

"Arthur!" Gwen said, somehow simultaneously sounding relieved and panicked. "Thank god. You have to get to the office right now. There's been an incident with one of the new snipers. It malfunctioned."

"What?" Arthur nearly shouted, and he was slightly aware of Merlin perking up in interest. "What's happened?"

"It backfired on two people. News has already spread—some of our clients want to pull out of their contracts. They keep phoning us," she told him, speaking at a mile a minute. "I  _told_  you we shouldn't have showcased the new prototype while it was underdeveloped. Mock One, my arse!"

"Guinevere," Arthur said, trying to calm her down and get her attention.

"Oh, no, I'm not blaming  _you_! I know it was your father's decision. I mean, not that I'm blaming him, either, I just—"

"Guinevere! Listen!"

She stopped short, and Arthur took in a breath.

"I can't just come into the office on a Saturday night," he said through his teeth, trying to keep quiet. Usually, he worked through the weekends, but this weekend was an exception. "I have Mordred."

Gwen gave an overwrought noise. "Well, you'll just have to get a sitter, Arthur. The clients won't listen to me. I'm just your assistant."

Arthur sighed, his eyes flashing to Merlin apologetically. Why was he still standing there?

"Alright," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, give me forty-five minutes. Until then, forward all the emails and messages to my mobile."

"Everything alright?" Merlin asked when Arthur slid the phone back on his hip.

"No, actually," Arthur said, thinking it obvious. "There's been a work emergency. I have to go in. Mordred will be bored out of his mind sitting in my office, but—"

"No, you can't take him!" Merlin whined. "There hasn't even been cake yet, and he's having fun!"

Arthur looked towards Mordred. He was at the accessories wall, pulling out tiny pairs of trousers and jackets and laughing with his friends. Arthur hated to pull him away.

"I appreciate your concern," Arthur said, "but I can't very well leave him here."

"I'll take Mordred home after the party," Merlin offered, and Arthur's eyes immediately snapped towards him.

"Excuse me? I don't even know you," Arthur said. It was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. "You could be anyone. You could be a serial killer, or—or a pedophile."

Merlin's laugh was a little awkward now, and he shifted his eyes, but his smile remained. "I work at Build-A-Bear," he said, like that cleared everything up.

"Which only makes it more likely," Arthur said blatantly.

Merlin dropped his shoulders, remaining patient. "I told you, I know Mordred. He's my neighbor," he said. "It's really no trouble dropping him off. We're going to the same place." He could see Arthur was still wary, so he said, "You can call Morgana, if it'd make you feel more comfortable."

Arthur doubted a phone call with his sister would make him  _comfortable_. That certainly wasn't the word he'd use. Morgana would kill him for disrupting her holiday, especially when he told her he was considering leaving her child with some shop worker, but he was running out of options. His mobile was vibrating with email after angry email.

He took it from his hip again and phoned Morgana. She picked up on the fifth ring, just when Arthur thought it was hopeless.

"Well, hello, dear brother," she said in her usual smug tone. "You lasted longer than I expected. Oh, Morgause, you'll never believe it. It's  _Arthur_!" She laughed haughtily. "Looks like I win the bet, after all."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, are you quite finished? This is important."

"Of course. What's the matter?"

Arthur bit the inside of his mouth. His gut told him not to go through with this, but he steeled himself and said, like ripping off a bandage, "I'm with Mordred at that teddy bear factory—"

"I'm sorry, the what?" She was just having a laugh. She wanted him to say it aloud. He didn't have time to be stubborn.

" _Build-A-Bear Workshop_ ," he said, dropping his voice and grinding his teeth. It sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth. Even Merlin had to bite back a laugh.

"Ah, yes, now I remember," said Morgana. "And?"

" _And_ —it's work. Something's come up. I have to get to the office right now."

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes over the line. "Oh, who's gone and blown themselves up  _now_?" she asked, ever the picture of humanitarian sympathy.

"That's what I need to find out." Arthur was basically white-knuckling the mobile now.

"Well, go on, then. Is Merlin working tonight?" she wondered, making Arthur's eyes find Merlin's again.

"Um—yes," he said. He hadn't expected Morgana to ask for Merlin specifically. "He's actually offered to look after Mordred until I get back."

"Put him on."

Arthur removed the mobile from his ear and held it out loftily to Merlin. "She wants to talk to you."

Merlin relieved him of the phone and said brightly into the receiver, "Hi, Morgana!" He listened for a few seconds, nodding and humming in the interval. "Yeah." More nodding. "Yeah, it's no problem." More humming. "Okay, great! Bye!" He ended the call and handed the phone back to Arthur.

"So, that's settled," Merlin told him matter-of-factly.

Arthur's stomach was still doing somersaults. No matter how helpful Merlin was being, he'd only just met him. Arthur was pretty sure the first rule of babysitting was to not leave your charge with a complete stranger.

He shook his head, trying to come up with a polite excuse. A few rolled off his tongue. "Well, we're not staying at Morgana's flat, actually. Mordred has been staying at mine, and I live across town. Besides, I don't want to leave Mordred by himself."

Merlin nodded like he understood. "Okay, how about I take Mordred back to mine and you can pick him up whenever you're done?"

Merlin looked innocent enough, but Arthur was still uncertain. His mobile kept going off in his fist. He had to make a decision.

"Okay," he said, choosing to trust Merlin. "Yes, thank you."

He turned away from Merlin and walked towards Mordred. "I have to go for a few hours. Something's gone wrong at work."

"Are you gonna have to fire a lot of people?" Mordred wondered, his eyes lighting up.

"Probably," Arthur muttered thoughtfully. He looked at Merlin from over the crowd and remembered what he said about getting on the kids' level. Arthur didn't know if he'd meant it in the literal sense, but he knelt down to be Mordred's height and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"But this is very important," he explained. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Mordred said with a shrug. "Am I going home with Merlin?"

Arthur blinked a few times, a little thrown off by how much faith everyone put into  _Merlin_. Perhaps it should have comforted Arthur.

"Yes," he answered.

Mordred's smile erupted, and he searched for Merlin in the crowd before calling, "Merlin! Can we play the Wii?"

Merlin walked over and said, "Sorry, buddy, that's in your flat. I haven't got one. But I've got something better! Harry Potter Monopoly."

Mordred deflated, and Arthur wondered if he needed to go through the fluff machine. "Monopoly's boring."

Merlin pulled a faux-offended face. "Not when it's in Hogwarts!"

"Okay," Mordred said, brightening some. "See you later, Uncle Arthur!" He scampered towards his friends at the computers.

Arthur stood up at full height again. "I should get your address and mobile number," he told Merlin, and he reached for his mobile again.

"Oh, right!" Merlin explained, suddenly producing a pen from his pocket. He grabbed Arthur's wrist, quite unexpectedly, and started jotting down his information on Arthur's palm. Arthur focused on the pen's tip tickling his skin, and the slight pressure of Merlin's fingers on his wrist. He wondered if Merlin had felt his pulse point quicken.

"There you go," Merlin said when he was finished, releasing Arthur. Arthur studied the scribbles on his palm. It was rushed, curvy print letters and numbers, punctuated by a smiley face. Arthur thought it rather fitting for Merlin. He dropped his hand, trying to remember not to curl it into a fist so the ink wouldn't smudge.

"I'll see you later, then," he said. "I shouldn't be later than ten!"

"No, take your time," Merlin said, and Arthur briskly started out of the store. When he looked over his shoulder, Merlin was already leaning next to one of the children, helping her pick out a costume for her bear.

* * *

It was a quarter passed midnight by the time Arthur called Merlin and told him he was on the way, after apologizing profusely into his answerphone. Half an hour later, he parked alongside the curb and rang the bell outside Merlin's building, which was a few stoops down from Morgana's.

He was buzzed up, and Arthur ascended to the second floor. The door opened with a whine after Arthur knocked on it gently. Merlin was on the other side, looking a little sleep deprived, with even more tousled hair than before. He wore loose, grey sweatpants, and a tight-fitting shirt. It was a blue color that made his eyes twinkle. He was a lot leaner than Arthur noticed before.

"He's asleep," Merlin said, nodding into the darkness behind him. "Come on in."

The flat was a small studio, decorated in deep blues and reds. There was a ripped up sofa in the center of room with a cluttered coffee table in front of it. The windows didn't have any curtains, and instead allowed the moon and city lights to stream in. A fitted kitchen with a pot of left over spaghetti on the hob sat in the corner, across from an unmade bed with a little Mordred-shaped lump under the blankets. There was also a large towering bookshelf near the bed, full of more novels and texts than Arthur could count in the lowlight. Somehow, Arthur knew it was the only part of the flat Merlin truly cared for.

"Merlin, I am so sorry," Arthur whispered for the umpteenth time. "I didn't think I'd get so held up."

"It's no problem," Merlin told him, though he sounded exhausted. He even yawned as he asked, "Is everything taken care of?"

"Mostly," Arthur said, dropping his tense shoulders. He felt a knot in his neck that would no doubt be a headache tomorrow. "It turned out to be a faulty piece in one of the products. We figured out who's responsible; we just have to make sure it never happens again."

Merlin didn't ask too many questions, but he nodded like he understood exactly what Arthur had been through in the last few hours. "I'm glad you got it all sorted," he said.

"Me, too," Arthur admitted. His eyes fell back to Mordred, who was sleeping peacefully. Usually, he would have woken up to any newcomers. "Must have been a rousing game of Harry Potter Monopoly."

"Actually, it turned into a rendition of Harry Potter," Merlin said, grinning.

Arthur's brows shot into his hairline. "Let me guess.  _You_  were Harry?"

"Nope, that was Mordred," Merlin whispered, shaking his head in amusement. "He wouldn't even let me be Ron. He made me be Professor McGonagall."

Arthur couldn't help but imagine it. It flooded his mind immediately and caused him to let out a bark of laughter. He clapped his hand over his mouth, hoping he didn't wake Mordred. Mordred only shuffled slightly, but remained still, so Arthur lowered his hand.

He noticed Merlin eyeing him up and down.

"What?" asked Arthur.

"I think that's the first time I've seen you smile," Merlin told him softy. "It suits you."

The room suddenly felt hot, and Arthur cleared his throat down at his shoes. Once he collected himself, he said, "Well, again, thank you."

"Any time," Merlin insisted.

Arthur reached into his back pocket and unfolded his wallet, taking out sixty pounds. Merlin immediately reacted by springing backwards and shaking his palms. One would have thought Arthur was offering him drugs in front of a policeman.

"No, really, you don't have to," Merlin said.

"Yes, I do," Arthur said, redoubling his offer. "Please. I wouldn't feel right."

"And I wouldn't feel right taking it," said Merlin.

Reluctantly, Arthur placed the money back into his wallet. He crossed the room and scooped Mordred into his arms. Mordred grunted slightly, awaking just enough to wrap his arms around Arthur's neck and snuggle his head into his chest. He was a lot heavier than the last time Arthur had held him, and Arthur had to waddle a little precariously in order not to drop him.

"Well . . . That's it, then," Arthur told Merlin.

"Yup," Merlin said, sounding a lot cooler than Arthur felt. He led Arthur to the door and opened it for him. "Goodnight, Arthur," he said, wrapping his long fingers around the wood of the door and leaning into the frame.

Arthur felt a little breathless at how droopy Merlin's eyes were. His own eyes stung with sleep.

"Goodnight," he said back, receiving just one more smirk before the door closed.

* * *

Gwen was a lot calmer on Monday morning. She offered Arthur her usual exultant hello when he strolled passed her desk and into his corner office that overlooked the Thames. When she brought him his coffee, she prattled on for a few minutes about what she and Lance did over the weekend. She finally got around to asking Arthur how his Sunday was, just before sweeping out of the room to answer the ringing phone.

He was happy he didn't get a chance to answer. Most of his Sunday was preoccupied with working from home while Mordred played videogames. However, Arthur didn't get much work done. His mind kept straying to a particular head of wavy dark hair and incessant smile. He tried to shake away those thoughts as he booted up his computer.

His mobile started chirping, dancing in circles from the accompanied vibrations on the glass desk. The caller ID showed a string of numbers that he  _almost_ recognized. He picked it up.

"Arthur Pendragon," he answered in his learned business-type demeanor.

" _Whoa-ho_!" laughed the voice on the other end. Like the phone number, it was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. But there was a certain litany to the tone he'd heard before. "That was very professional." The voice dropped in a way that, Arthur assumed, mimicked him as it repeated, " _Arthur Pendragon_. I like it!"

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times, not knowing how to respond.

"Um . . . I'm sorry. Who—who is this?" he decided on.

"Oh! Right. Sorry. It's Merlin!" said the cheerful tone, and Arthur automatically put the face to the name. "From—er, Build-A-Bear. And Mordred."

"No, I—Yes. Of course," Arthur said. He had a million questions going through his head. "How did you get this number?"

He heard Merlin let out an amused scoff. It sounded tinny over the line. "You phoned me before picking up Mordred, remember? I have caller ID, you know!"

_Duh_ , Arthur thought inwardly. He felt a blush creeping up his neck and he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Of course," he said again, trying to keep cool. "What can I do for you, Merlin?"

"Well, you left Mordred's bear at my flat," Merlin told him, making Arthur feel even more ashamed, even if there was no blame in his tone. Arthur must have been the worst babysitter of all time. "I've only just spotted it now," which was no wonder with all the mess.

"Oh."

"I'm still at home. Will be for another hour," Merlin went on. "You can swing round now and pick it up."

Arthur looked at the paperwork on his desk, and then at the documents opened on his computer. He could very well leave those for later, but, upon consulting his watch, he realized he had an appointment in half an hour's time. There was simply no way he could go all the way across town and back again before then.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Merlin, I can't right now," he said. "I've got work."

"Well, so have I!" Merlin exclaimed. Arthur realized that Merlin was very good at shaming him without really trying.

"Hmm," Merlin thought aloud. Arthur could almost hear him pouting his lips across the line. He offered, "I could swing by your flat after my shift? Tonight?"

Merlin was being almost too helpful for his own good again.

Arthur found himself being equally polite, which was a rare grace for him.

"No,  _no_ ," he said. "Why don't I meet you at the shopping centre during my lunch break? I can pick it up then."

"Alright," Merlin agreed. He was one of those people whose smile could be heard over the phone. Although Arthur couldn't see it, the expression was infectious. Did Merlin ever stop smiling? "I'll look out for you."

"Excellent."

"Bye!"

"Goodbye, Merlin—"

Merlin had hung up before Arthur finished saying his name. He looked down at his mobile, watching the call end and fade back into his home screen. He was still smiling. Upon realizing that, he straightened his face and leaned towards his desk phone.

"Guinevere?" he asked after pressing  _line 1_. "Do I have a lunch meeting today?"

"Ummmm," Gwen sang. He could hear her mouse click and her keyboard thwack. "Yes! With Mr. de Bois."

"Cancel it," Arthur told her. "Send him my regards, but something came up."

"Is everything alright?" Gwen asked.

Arthur didn't answer right away. He sat back in his chair and stared down at his mobile, half expecting it to jump to life again with Merlin's number.

"Yeah," he said as he unlocked the screen and went into his call history. He added Merlin's number as a contact. "Everything's great."

* * *

A little after noon, Arthur was standing in the Build-A-Bear entrance, half-in and half-out. The shopping centre was much less congested during working hours. The giant, plastic bear kept staring forward with its dead eyes and waving at him with its paw swiping up and down in slow motion. Arthur pointedly tired not to look at it.

He spotted Merlin towards the back of the shop, again with a cluster of little ones sitting cross-legged at his feet as he filled up their bears with stuffing and love. He was aware of Arthur's presence. Every now and again, he looked up from what he was doing and grinned. Arthur bit back his own smile so he wouldn't look like a loon.

After Merlin had filled up the last animal and the children rushed for the grooming area, he headed towards Arthur. Arthur watched him brush his hands on his trousers like they were dirty, and Merlin kept eye contact and a pleasant expression the entire time. Arthur didn't know what to do with that, so he decided to hold his palm up in a wave as Merlin approached.

"Hey," Merlin said. "I've got it behind the till. Come on in." He nodded towards the register before doubling back for it, and Arthur paced after him.

Soon, the box made to look like a house was grasped in Arthur's hands, and he gave Merlin a thankful nod.

"I appreciate it," he said.

"Oh, it's no trouble."

Arthur was turning pink again, or at least that's how it felt. He looked anywhere but at Merlin's characteristically crooked teeth and sparkling eyes. The entire shop was blinding with color.

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Well, um—goodbye."

He turned around so stiffly that he might have been in the military. But then he second-guessed himself. He didn't quite know why, but he faced Merlin again. Merlin was still watching him expectantly.

"Listen, I—I'm on my lunch break," Arthur began, trying not to sound nervous, "and I haven't actually eaten lunch. And I hate eating at my desk—," though he'd done it more than a few times. "Would you . . . Do you want to get a bite to eat? As a thank you for last night—with Mordred, I mean." He was rambling. He never rambled. "Anyway . . . if you can?"

Merlin bit his lip as though trying to hold back a laugh. "Yeah, I think I can." He craned his neck behind him at the mousy-looking girl behind the till. "Hey, Freya, can I have my break now?"

At first, she looked at him with wide eyes, as though the entire Build-A-Bear franchise would crumble down if he left for even an instant. He flashed her a smile slightly different from the one normally plastered on his face—more charming and handsome—and her panic seemed to fade.

"Sure, Merlin," she said, letting another strand of matted hair fall in front of her face as she looked back down. Arthur thought she might be pretty if only he could see her face unobstructed. "Have a good time."

"Thanks." Merlin turned back to Arthur. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder and started walking backwards in the indicated direction. "Let me just change out of this shirt and I'll be right with you. Two ticks."

Arthur gestured with his free hand. "Of course."

Merlin was off. He disappeared into a  _staff only_  door at the back of the shop, and Arthur did his best to not feel out of place. He tried to block out the children's high-pitched screaming, and kept his eyes glued to his shoes. He shuffled the cardboard box that housed Mordred's bear from one hand to the other.

When Merlin returned a few minutes later, he was wearing a loose black t-shirt beneath a red hoodie with the sleeves bunched up to his elbows. Maybe it was Arthur's imagination, but his hair seemed less messy than it had been a moment ago, like Merlin finally learned what a comb was.

"Shall we?" Merlin asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

Arthur gestured for him to lead the way. He wasn't familiar with any of the restaurants in the shopping centre, and assumed they would all be chain outfits or fast food kiosks. He was right, and Merlin directed them to the Nando's on the floor below Build-A-Bear.

Arthur had never been there and was skeptical of it, despite Merlin's raving reviews about the seasonings they put on their chips. So, Arthur held his tongue at the fact that he had to order and pay at the counter before taking a seat. He hadn't done something like that since he was a teen.

They waited for their food at the table, and Arthur spent most of that time picking up and putting back down the egg-shaped saltshaker. He didn't know what it was at first, until he turned it upside down and accidentally spilled a few crystals onto the table.

He looked up at Merlin, who was sitting across from him on the cushioned bench with his hands tucked under his thighs. He bounced slightly up and down, looking this way and that like he was trying to avoid any awkward eye contact.

Arthur cleared his throat, realizing he was being rude.

"So,  _Merlin_. Tell me about yourself," he asked, figuring it was a good place to begin.

Merlin's eyes snapped to him immediately, and something close to alarm flashed inside them, like he'd sudden forgotten every single fact about himself.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, obviously finding the task too daunting and expansive.

Arthur shrugged. "Anything; I don't know."

"Okay, well," Merlin fished, skewing his eyes up in thought. He landed on the cliché, "I graduated uni recently. Well, I say 'recently.' It was about a year ago."

Arthur pursed his lips and nodded like the fact was unique. At that moment, a waitress came by and placed their food in front of them before disappearing again. Arthur eyed his chicken sandwich with growing uncertainty.

"What did you study?" he asked, prolonging himself from taking the first bite. Merlin, however, had already dug into his slab of poultry with a fork and knife.

He swallowed down the food in his mouth with a large gulp before answering, voice thick, "Literature." He said it like he was apologetic.

"Oh!" Arthur said, his voice an octave higher than usual.

"Yeah," Merlin said, a little crestfallen, but he giggled it off. "Probably why I have a job at Build-A-Bear."

"No, no—it's just . . . Literature." Arthur had a feeling he wasn't making Merlin feel any less judged. "Are you a writer?"

"Lord, no!" He sighed. "No, I'm better at reading books than writing them. I—um. I would like to be a publisher. Maybe own my own little firm one day. Nothing big." He seemed sheepish, like he expected Arthur to call that stupid of finically unrealistic. Arthur had a feeling that Merlin had heard that one too many times. Still, Merlin hastened to add, "For children's books."

"Like Harry Potter?" Arthur asked, and Merlin's smile spread from ear to ear at the prospect.

"Oh, I don't know about all that." His voice grew dreamy. "But maybe . . . if I find a good enough writer with a big idea."

"Well, best of luck to you," Arthur said because he wasn't sure what else he could say. He took his first bite of the sandwich. The chicken was a little dry, but he was willing to overlook it.

Merlin shoved a chip in his mouth and spoke around it. "What about you, Uncle Arthur? What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Arthur chuckled. "I'm the senior chairperson at Pendragon, Inc."

Merlin shrugged, popping in another chip. "What's that?"

"We develop military technology and equipment," Arthur told him.

Merlin stopped chewing. He studied Arthur in a peculiar way. Arthur froze, wondering if Merlin was one of those anti-war activists.

"Like . . . weapons?" he asked finally. "Nucs and things?"

"Well, not nuclear arms, no," Arthur corrected. "Our weapons are more sophisticated. They—well, a lot of them I can't discuss. They're still in the prototype stage."

"Right." Merlin stuck out his chin and nodded. He tapped his index finger to his nose. "Super secret spy technology. I get it."

"Not quite," Arthur laughed.

"Do you like it?"

Arthur was a bit thrown by the question. He opened his mouth to answer, but snapped it closed again. He was aware of the curious look Merlin was giving him in the silence, but he'd never been asked that question before.

" _Yeah_ ," he answered, his voice cracking.

Merlin tilted his head and furrowed his brow. "Doesn't sound very convincing."

"No, I do, I just—I suppose it was the only thing I ever could do," Arthur realized. "It's my father's company. That's probably the only reason I got the job . . ."

"I don't think he'd make you senior chairperson if you were rubbish," Merlin reasoned, and Arthur shrugged and let out a noise like Merlin had a point.

"Well, it's not like I started at the top," Arthur felt the need to say. "I worked in the post room when I was fifteen. It was my first job, actually."

"And did you like  _that_?"

"Oh, god, no! I hated every second."

"But you stayed with the company?" Merlin pried, seeming to not understand.

"Yes." Arthur dropped his shoulders and sat back in his chair. "I just sort of fell into this job. If I had a choice—"

"Why didn't you have a choice?"

"No, that's not what I meant! I  _did_  have a choice. I just . . ."

He felt flustered. Suddenly, he had no idea what he was getting at, or even what wanted from his life.

"Alright, well, if you  _had_  a choice, even though you  _did_  have a choice, what else would you have done?" Merlin asked.

Arthur looked down at his half-eaten sandwich. He knew what he wanted to say, but he'd never admitted it to anyone before. No one had ever even asked.

"I'd own a bake shop," he said, instantly regretting it.

Merlin's eyes shot into his fringe. "You can bake?"

"Not to save my life."

Merlin looked more confused than ever. "How would you run a bake shop if you can't bake?"

_That's_  why Arthur never told anyone.

"Well, obviously, I'd have other people do that baking for me," Arthur huffed, and Merlin narrowed his eyes in thought. Arthur felt the need to explain. "It's because of my mother. When I was a kid, she was always baking. The house always smelt like cookies." He smiled softly at the memory, and wafting baked goods wasn't the only scent that came to mind. He remembered his mother scooping him up in her lap. Her hands perpetually smelled of vanilla.

"She was good with cakes, too—with fillings and fondant and all that," he continued. "People always begged her to open a bake shop. Eventually, they started asking her to make cakes for parties and things. They always tried to pay her, but she never took the money. She said it was her pleasure."

"And she doesn't make cakes anymore?" Merlin wondered, and Arthur's reminiscing smile faded.

"No, um. She died, actually," he said. "When I was ten. Cancer."

"Oh," Merlin said. He looked down at the tabletop. "My dad died when I little," he said suddenly, like that was supposed to comfort Arthur. Strangely, it did.

"I was four, maybe five," he said. "I don't remember much about him. Small stuff. He had big hands and a beard. And he had this beaten old brown leather jacket that he used to put over me like a blanket whenever I fell asleep on the couch." He looked off in memory, like he could still smell the leather. Arthur loved the way his eyes sparkled.

But then the pleasant expression transformed into something bittersweet.

"He worked repairing the underground," Merlin went on. "And, one day, someone forgot to turn off the electric to the tracks. He went down to fix them, and . . . Well, it was a closed-casket funeral, anyway. I remember that."

Arthur blinked, not knowing what to say. He didn't know what was worse: a sudden, unexpected death or a slow, rotting one. The end result was the same either way. The scent of baking never filled Arthur again, and Merlin forever lost the aroma of weatherworn leather.

"I didn't ask you to lunch to talk about dead relatives," Arthur said, trying to make the conversation light again. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Don't be," Merlin told him. He was already smiling again, albeit a little shakier. "At least now we know we have something in common."

Arthur thought that was a rather optimistic way of viewing things, but he had a feeling Merlin would find it realistic.

After they'd finished eating, Arthur walked Merlin back to the shop. He clutched the Build-A-Bear box in his fist as to not forget it again. They paused outside the entrance, and Merlin turned to Arthur instead of immediately rushing inside, which was a good thing, Arthur supposed.

"Thanks for lunch," Merlin said. "It was good."

"Yes, it was," Arthur lied—at least, he lied about the food. Realizing, he held up the boxed bear and said, "And thank  _you_  for this. Mordred will appreciate it."

"He might, but it's not for him," Merlin said. "He made it for you."

Arthur jerked his head back in shock. "For  _me_?"

"Mm-hmm," Merlin hummed. "Anyway, I have to get back, and I'm sure you do, too. You must be busy, protecting queen and country from all those military threats. You're like a knight!"

"I don't actually use the weapons, Merlin," Arthur corrected in a droll tone and with a roll of his eyes. "Or make them, for that matter. They're produced elsewhere. I just hold accounts and . . ." He fished for the laymen term. " _Oversee_  the entire operation."

"Fine, then," Merlin said, seeming disinterested in technicalities. "You're a king!"

" _Ha_!" Arthur barked, and Merlin's face erupted.

"You should talk," said Arthur. "Bringing stuffed bears to life with the power of imagination and silk hearts. You're either a mad scientist or a necromancer."

"I like the word wizard better," Merlin corrected.

" _Right_ , more Harry Potter."

"Exactly." Merlin was bouncing again, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets. He wore a thin, brown leather band across his thin wrist.

"Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny," Arthur said, pointing towards him with a lofty finger. "Is there a lightning bolt scar under your fringe?"

Merlin beamed in a way that made Arthur feel like an ice-lolly on a hot day. He scanned Arthur up and down and half turned away to enter the shop, but he lingered.

"I'll see you around, King Arthur," he said, his smile once again resounding in his voice.

"Yeah," Arthur whispered, finding himself hoping it was sooner rather than later. "I'll see you."

Merlin hopped back into the storefront, and Arthur watched his back for a few moments before realizing he was staring. He walked away, trying to hide the spring in step.

But then he stopped, remembering the cardboard box in his hand. He unfolded the top to be met with the synthetic furry ears of a golden-brown teddy. He lifted it out of its home, eyeing the small black suit and tie it wore. There was a certificate inside, too, stating the name of the bear as  _Uncle Arthur_.

Arthur stared at it for longer than he'd intended, feeling warm.

* * *

When Arthur returned to his office, Gwen wasn't at her desk, so he slipped into the room and left the door open, as per usual. He placed the teddy bear on the shelves behind his desk before sitting down and checking his emails.

"Hey!" Gwen's bright voice sounded from the doorway a few moments later. Arthur turned to find her sticking herself halfway through the threshold. "Where'd you go for lunch?"

Arthur sat back, preparing himself for the slew of questions that would no doubt follow his answer.

"Nando's."

Gwen stared at him in perplexity for a moment before deciding he was joking. She laughed, but her expression faded when his remained neutral.

"Really?" she asked, now smiling for a whole new, bemused reason. " _You_  ate at Nando's?"

"Yes."

" _You_?"

"Guinevere."

"You? Arthur Pendragon? The same Arthur who made me order him sushi all the way from Islington because all the Japanese restaurants around here are, and I quote,  _too take away-ee_?"

Arthur sighed heavily. "Yes. The very same."

Gwen gave a thoughtful hum. "Well?" she asked. "How was it?"

Arthur considered the question. He shrugged. "I had a chicken sandwich. It was overcooked," but he was smiling, he realized. "It was fun."

"Are you having your mid-life crisis early?" Gwen teased, shaking her head in a way that made her curls bounce.

Arthur shot her a mock-warning glare. "Get back to work, Guinevere."

She gave him another amused grin before disappearing, and Arthur spun his chair around just for the hell of it. As the rotation slowed, he faced the bear on the shelves, sitting between a framed photograph of him, Morgana, and Mordred and a football signed by all the United players.

Maybe the clients wouldn't take it seriously, but Arthur loved it.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, after Morgana had returned from her holiday and Mordred returned home, Arthur found himself making up excuses to return to the shopping centre: he needed a new tie, that chicken sandwich really wasn't bad and he was craving another one, or he saw a shoe store on the second level that sold a pair perfect for work. Sometimes, he built up the courage to pass by Build-A-Bear, but he was never able to spot Merlin.

He also spent more time at Morgana's, coming over for dinner or simply to hang out on weeknights, too, instead of just weekends. Every now and again, he ran into Merlin, either coming home or going out or taking his rubbish to the curb. At first, they would only offer each other waves and smiles, but it eventually graduated into chats. Once, they spoke for an hour, with Merlin sitting on the stoop steps while Arthur leaned against its railing, until Merlin got a phone call from someone who angrily reminded him that he was an hour late to meet up.

"Just ask him out already!" Morgana complained one night after dinner and a rousing game of Wii boxing with Mordred. (Arthur beat his own high score.) "Or I'll do it for you."

" _Morgana_ ," Arthur groaned. "I can't just do that. He's a bit . . . Well, he's so  _young_."

She quirked a pencil-thin brow at him and sipped her wine. "How old, exactly, do you think you are? Fifty?"

Arthur grumbled at her.

Later that night, while Arthur was leaving Morgana's building, he heard two men down the street arguing. Normally, Arthur would have hustled down the stoop and paid then no mind, but one of the voices was familiar.

He stopped on the top step and looked towards the yelling. Just visible by the light of the streetlamps were Merlin and a middle-aged, handsome man. He was tall, thin, and muscular with gray wisps his dark hair and short beard, but that's all Arthur could make out.

Arthur stepped back closer to the entrance of Morgana's building so he wouldn't be seen. Really, he should have gone right to his car. This was none of his business, but he couldn't bring himself to ignore it.

Because Merlin wasn't smiling now.

"Just, please, go," he almost pleaded with the man. He sounded ragged.

"Not until I get a reason," the man boomed.

"A  _reason_?" Merlin shouted incredulously in a burst of frustration. He lowered his voice to a normal tone. "Kanen, it's been a year and a half. You were just . . . You never meant it, did you?"

The man, Kanen, scoffed angrily. Something told Arthur he had a short fuse. "Not  _this_  again. You're never fucking pleased!"

Merlin sighed heavily and shook his head. "Goodbye, Kanen," he said with finality. He turned around to walk up his stoop.

"You're staying right there!" Kanen yelled, lurching forward and grabbing Merlin's wrist hard. Arthur almost jumped forward in defense before reminding himself he shouldn't have even been there.

Merlin jerked his arm away but turned back around to face Kanen.

" _Go_ ," Merlin demanded, and there was a calmness to his anger. It was a side of him Arthur hadn't seen before. "Or I'm calling the police."

"You wouldn't."

"Then I'll call the university."

"You  _wouldn't_."

Merlin didn't say anything. He and Kanen stared each other down for a long time before Kanen backed away.

"You'll see me again, Merlin," he said. He turned and started for his car. Merlin watched him get inside, start the rumbling engine, and pull away from the curb. Arthur saw how set Merlin's expression was in the flash of headlights.

After the car had turned down the adjacent street, Merlin let out an almighty breath and deflated. He ran his shaky hands through his hair and kept them there for a pause, fingers gripping the black like they were the only things he could get a handle on. His chest rose and fell heavily.

Finally, he dropped his arms and collected himself. He went inside.

Arthur jostled down the stoop. He stood under the pool of light coming from the streetlamp for a pause, watching Merlin's building for signs of life. A few seconds later, a light from the second floor flat flipped on, but Arthur couldn't see Merlin's shadow moving around in the glow.

Briefly, he wondered if he should ring Merlin's bell to check up on him. But he didn't know what to say in ways of comfort. Instead, he took his jingling car keys from his trouser pocket and headed for his car.

* * *

Arthur didn't see Merlin for another week. Part of him was glad for that. He wouldn't know what to say. He'd feel silently guilty in Merlin's presence for eavesdropping on such a private moment. But the other part of him, more prominent, was worried. He wanted to know if Merlin was all right. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do.

It was a little passed one in the morning when Arthur's mobile started vibrating. He heard the buzzing in the peripherals of his consciousness, fuzzy and far away, as they pulled him from sleep. Eventually, he realized what it was as flailed his hand towards his nightstand. He felt around for the phone before finding it, and its blinding screen burned Arthur's eyes when he checked who was calling.

It was Merlin.

Instantly awake, Arthur answered the call. "Hello?"

"Arthur? It—it's Merlin. Were you asleep? Oh, you were asleep, weren't you?"

"Um." Arthur looked at the clock.

"No, you're right—I'm sorry! This was  _stupid_." He said the word like it contained venom, like he was mentally beating himself up. "Forget I phoned."

Arthur sat up and ran his hand down his tired face. "Merlin, what is it?" He sounded concerned.

A sigh rattled over the line, and there was a pause into which Arthur thought Merlin had hung up, but then he spoke. "I can't go back to my flat. My friend—Will. He came round earlier when I wasn't there and . . . Well, anyway, he told me there's someone hanging around outside, and I don't think he'll leave."

Arthur assumed he meant Kanen, but held his tongue.

"And he knows where all my friends live, so I can't stay with any of them." There was another pause. "I was hoping I could maybe crash at yours— _but never mind_! It's nothing. I'm sorry—"

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur interrupted. He was gripping his mobile with white knuckles. He hated the tone in Merlin's voice: lost and hopeless and a little scared, but proud. Merlin didn't have to be proud around Arthur. "Where are you? I'll pick you up."

Arthur was sure Merlin's lips had flickered with a faint smile, even if he couldn't see it.

* * *

Merlin was standing on the pavements outside the shopping centre. His hands were shoved into his sweater's pockets again and the hood was pulled over his hair. He bounced up and down in defense against the chill. The building behind him was dark, closed for the night hours ago, and the area surrounding it was deserted.

Arthur pulled up to the curb and leaned over to push open the passenger's side door. The dashboard dinged until Merlin slide inside and closed it again.

"Thanks," Merlin huffed as he tugged at his seatbelt. He wasn't looking at Arthur, but Arthur could see the shamed expression on his profile.

Arthur gave him his privacy and accelerated.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Hardly any cars were on the road at that time of night, and automated red lights reflected off empty tarmac while green lights permitted ghosts to pass. Eventually, Arthur couldn't take it anymore.

"What happened, Merlin?" he said, breaking the silence over the revving of the engine.

Merlin hugged his torso a little tighter. "It's not important," he mumbled.

Arthur scoffed. "It's a quarter to two in the morning. I think I have a right to know."

Merlin didn't say anything. The silence made Arthur glance at him out of the corners of his eyes before returning them to the road. It occurred to him that he was probably being insensitive, so he took a steadying breath to lend him patience.

"Merlin," he said, voice softer now. "You're worrying me. I just want to know you're okay. This—this person outside your flat. Is this someone dangerous?"

"No," Merlin answered immediately. "He's . . . He was my professor at uni."

Arthur scrunched his brow, remembering the argument he saw between Merlin and Kanen. Arthur didn't know much about student-teacher relationships, but he certainly never had any of his former professors stalk his flat in the middle of the night. At least, not that he knew of, but he was willing to bet it never happened.

"Oh," he said shortly, trying to work it out.

Merlin must have heard the confusion in his tone, because he looked down at his lap and explained, "He was my lit professor in my final year. He, um . . . We got on. He was a great teacher, actually. The best." There was something in his voice. It wasn't fondness, not quite. It was the memory of fondness, an echo—like the dream of a naïve child. Because there was also a remorseful edge in Merlin's tone, speaking to a lesson well learned.

Merlin twirled the white strings of his hoodie.

"He knew I wanted to be a publisher," Merlin went on. "He said he knew someone who owned a company in London—it's a scientific publisher, not what I want. But it's a start. And it's a big name, so it would look great on a resume." He sounded like he'd worked hard to justify putting his ultimate goal on the backburner, not that he needed to. Arthur thought it was a rather good place to start after graduation.

"Kanen said he could get me a job there as a publisher's assistant," Merlin said. He stopped playing with the string, but his eyes were still cast downward.

"Oh," Arthur said again, still not understanding. "Well, then maybe you should speak with him—"

"If I fucked him," Merlin added as quickly as he could.

Arthur's foot slipped off the pedal. He completely forgot about the road ahead and gawked at Merlin with wide eyes.

" _What_?" he said, his voice too loud for the small space. Merlin jolted slightly, but he relaxed when Arthur said, "That can't be legal! To say that to a  _student_?"

"I know," Merlin said. He closed his eyes, and it finally dawned on Arthur that Merlin had accepted to offer.

"Oh . . ."

"Yeah."

Arthur faced front again. He tried not to grip the wheel too hard.

"It went on for a while," Merlin said, sounding guilty. He snorted bitterly. "Up until a few weeks ago."

"But you ended it?"

Merlin nodded down at his hands. "Every time I'd ask about the job, Kanen would always tell me he was working on it. He said his friend would come through any day, and I had to be patient. But then more time went on and, when I'd ask, he'd get mad. He'd change the subject or just tell me not to bother him about it."

"He was using you," Arthur deciphered.

"There's probably no job," Merlin said. "There probably never was." He sniffed, and it turned into another callous laugh. "I can't believe I told you that. You must think I'm a whore or something."

"I don't think that," Arthur assured him pointedly. "I think you were scared that you wouldn't have a job after school, and you jumped on the first opportunity you could find."

"So, you think I'm stupid?"

"I think your situation is more common than you think," said Arthur. "You're not stupid."

"Yeah," Merlin said, but he didn't sound like he believed it.

Arthur parked in his space in the garage when they arrived at his building, and although the garage was nothing but concrete, Merlin was already gaping. Arthur saw him huddle in on himself, as though to hide his old, worn clothes in the presence of the luxury cars. He walked towards the back of Arthur's car and waited for Arthur to catch up. He looked small.

Arthur hated it. He placed his hand gently between Merlin's shoulder blades to direct him towards the lift. "Come on," he whispered, and Merlin seemed to brighten somewhat. That is, he looked less miserable than Arthur had seen him all night, and Arthur found himself wistful for the perpetual smile.

When they reached Arthur's flat on the top floor, Merlin was the first inside. He let out an impressed whistle at the small foyer, decorated with a coat rack on one side and a mirror over a butler's table on the other.

He stepped further into the flat, into the large living room with its leather couch and loveseat angled around a glass coffee table. There was a flat screen hanging from the clean white wall and surrounded by shelves that held the sound system. The adjacent wall wasn't a wall at all, but a giant window that overlooked the multicolored lights of London. The dark hardwood led to a bar across the room, and then to a kitchen of stainless steel appliances, and a short hallway the led to the Arthur's bedroom.

"Wow," Merlin said, sounding sarcastic despite himself. He looked over his shoulder at Arthur, and Arthur noticed his smile was once again staged. "Bet you wouldn't be able to afford all this with a baker's salary."

Arthur snorted. "Not unless it was a  _very_  good bakery," he joked. He walked to the bar and tossed his key ring onto it with a clatter. "Water?"

"No," Merlin said, quickly remembering his manners, "Thanks."

"All right, then," Arthur said, leaning his back against the bar. He pointed towards the living room. "You can sleep on the couch. Bathroom's right down the hall. So am I." He felt his heart skip, wondering if Merlin understood his meaning. "If you needed anything," he added quickly, before Merlin could react. "Like . . . More blankets or anything," he explained further.

God, why was he always stumbling over his tongue in Merlin's presence?

"Got it," Merlin told him, tapping his finger to his nose. "But I should be fine."

"Okay," Arthur said, starting towards the hallway before he died of embarrassment. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Merlin told him. "And really, uh. Thanks, Arthur."

Arthur turned back to him, watching the lowlight play on his soft features. The fake smile had faded into something exhausted but grateful all the same.

"Of course," Arthur said before ducking into the hall.

* * *

The next morning, Arthur woke up at six-thirty, as always, for a shower. On his way back to his room from the bathroom, he heard the irritating beeping of a cell phone alarm, which was shortly interrupted. Arthur chuckled softly, imagining Merlin grunting tiredly against the alarm and snuggling back into his pillow for a short snooze. But Arthur found he couldn't linger on the imagined image, because it started feeling like a daydream.

By seven-fifteen, he was dressed and headed for the kitchen for his first cup of coffee of the day. He'd be out of the flat by seven-thirty and at the office by eight. It was a routine he'd exercised down to the minute every morning. The only thing different with that particular morning was the man still sprawled on the sofa.

Merlin was lying facedown on the leather with a throw blanket wrapped completely around him like a burrito and his head smooshed against the arm of the couch. The pillow had tumbled to the floor. His legs, ending in socked feet, were too long for the length of the couch, so that one was hanging off the end and the other was kicked up onto the back of the sofa. One arm was dipped over the side, touching the floor and bent back at the wrist.

Arthur watched him sleep with an amused grin, oddly not annoyed that his living room was suddenly a mess. As he sipped his coffee, Merlin's breaths became less relaxed, and he began moving and twitching like he was returning to the waking world. His eyes opened all at once, and he shot up to his knees in what Arthur could only describe as a panic.

"What time is it?" he asked hurriedly, his voice croaking with sleep as he rubbed at his eyes in a frenzy. His hair was sticking up in every direction, looking soft and ruffled. Arthur wanted to comb his fingers through it until it was tame.

Instead, he put his mug and dregs of coffee into the sink and filled it with water so it wouldn't stain. "Nearly eight," he said, only realizing it himself. He'd been too busy watching Merlin to turn on the news.

"Oh, god!" Merlin exclaimed. He dove for his mobile on the table and fumbled with it to check the time, like he wouldn't believe Arthur until he saw it with his own eyes. "Oh,  _shit_! I'm going to be  _so_  late for work!" He jumped off the couch and scrambled for his shoes.

"I'm opening the shop today," he huffed, more so thinking aloud than telling Arthur. "I can't be late! Oh, shit. Where's the nearest tube station?"

Arthur, who had walked into the living room during Merlin's little episode, raised a brow. "Don't worry about the tube," he said. "I'll drive you."

Merlin froze mid-lace-tie. He glanced up at Arthur through his eyelashes. "What? No, Arthur." Remembering himself, he finished tying his shoe and stood up. He struggled into his hoodie. "You've already done enough. I've got to go home and get changed before I go in—I. No, I wouldn't want to put you out."

He was saying one thing, but his eyes were pleading another. Arthur laughed.

"Really, Merlin, it's a slow day today," he promised. "I'm in no rush."

Merlin was looking at Arthur like he was a saint, but he still seemed hesitant.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll drive you to yours and then you can take the tube from there," Arthur compromised, not taking no for an answer. He picked up his keys from the bar. "Deal?"

Merlin bit his lower lip in consideration, but he must have realized he had no time for debate. "Deal," he conceded.

Arthur collected his briefcase and followed Merlin, who was still in a whirlwind, out the door.

* * *

The street was calm and empty when they turned onto it, save for a few parked residential cars, as most of the adults had already left for work and the children had already been collected by their school buses. Arthur swiveled his neck towards Morgana's building as they passed it, like he expected to see either his sister or Mordred, but there was only an empty stoop.

"Oh, no," he heard Merlin groan, sounding more tired than ever. Arthur's gaze moved to him. Merlin had sat up straighter in his seat, watching something out the windshield with dread. Arthur looked in the same direction and immediately spotted Kanen sitting on Merlin's stoop.

Arthur pulled over to the curb behind another parked car and killed the engine.

"Did he wait for you here  _all night_?" Arthur asked, unsure if he was disgusted or impressed by Kanen's determination.

Merlin didn't answer. He seemed to be preparing himself, and his face set into steel. He pushed the passenger door open and tore from the seat, not bothering to close to the door in his wake. The dashboard dinged.

Arthur scrambled to take off his seatbelt and follow after Merlin. In that time, Kanen stood up from the stoop with a mean expression in his sharp eyes.

"Where have you been all night?" he demanded, not bothering to keep his voice down. He nodded his chin in Arthur's direction. "Who's this?"

"It's none of your business," Merlin told him harshly.

"Yeah? Nice ride there," Kanen told Arthur, trying to get a rise of both of them. It was working. Arthur curled his fists. Kanen looked back to Merlin. "Are you charging now?"

The car behind them was still chiming, warning Arthur to close to door or take the keys out of the ignition, or both.

"Go away," Merlin said, his shoulders tightening. His bravado was plunging in a downward spiral, and his voice had been softer and less commanding than he probably would have liked. "I don't have time for you right now."

"You'll make time," Kanen told him. "You and I need to have a discussion."

"All right, that's enough," Arthur said, putting himself between Merlin and Kanen.

"Arthur, stop," Merlin hissed, sounding a little embarrassed, but Arthur didn't listen.

"Look, he asked you to leave. I say, you do it."

Kanen laughed. It was a short laugh, a loud one, more like the barking of a dog than anything. It echoed down the street.

He took a step closer to Arthur. "You're quick to defend," he said. "Merlin shouldn't have charged you at all."

The car still dinged.

Arthur hadn't meant to do it. It just happened, like a flash. His fist connected with Kanen's nose, like a muscle memory from an animated boxing game. When Arthur realized what had happened, his arm was already hanging loosely at his side again, and his knuckles were throbbing. They were also red and wet.

Kanen was on his ass on the pavement, clutching his broken nose as blood trickled between the cracks in his fingers. "You stupid fucker!" he was saying thickly, barely comprehensible. "You broke my fucking nose!"

Arthur's eyes were wide, but not as wide as Merlin's. Merlin's mouth was also hanging open in an O-shape. He looked mortified.

Kanen got to his feet, and for a second Arthur thought he might strike him back, but he instead shoved Arthur out of the way with his free, bloody hand. He ran towards his car and peeled away once the engine kicked on, no doubt en route to a hospital. Arthur watched the car until it turned onto the next street and disappeared.

He straightened himself out, fixing his tie and glaring down at the red speckles on his shirt. He'd have to go home and change—and get an ice pack. God, maybe he'd broken his hand, too?

His eyes flew back to Merlin, who was still standing there in shock.

"Merlin, are you all right?" Arthur asked, even though he was the one with the bad hand. He took a step for Merlin and reached out his good hand, but Merlin backpedalled.

He shook his head, like he didn't want Arthur to be anywhere in his vicinity.

"I—I'm gonna be late for work," he mumbled quickly, and Arthur hadn't processed what he'd said until Merlin had rushed up the stoop and let the door slam behind him.

Arthur blinked at the empty space where Merlin had stood, wondering what he'd done wrong.

After a few seconds, he pulled himself out of the blankness. He fleetingly considered buzzing Merlin's doorbell, but decided he'd better leave it alone.

He got back into the car and closed both doors. The dinging stopped.

* * *

For the rest of the week, Arthur tried to work out what he'd done wrong. The more he thought about it, the less he understood. Kanen was insulting Merlin—he was stalking him. He deserved to be knocked onto his ass with a bloody nose. Arthur thought it should have made Merlin happy. Maybe he even hoped Merlin would be grateful.

On Thursday, Arthur finally decided to text Merlin to break the silence. He was subtle, asking how Merlin was doing. There was no response. Arthur checked his inbox every five minutes to make sure he hadn't missed it. The waiting had him up all night, keeping him from sleep with both ears listening out for a vibration.

On Friday, he sent another text:  _I'm sorry if I've done something wrong. I didn't mean for that._

Again, he didn't receive an answer.

Not until Monday morning, when Gwen popped her head into his office.

"Parcel for you," she said brightly, holding a cardboard box between her hands. That certainly wasn't normal. Arthur usually didn't get packages bigger than document size.

"Really?" he asked, quirking a brow.

She hummed. "Says it's from, um . . . Merlin Emrys. Know him?"

" _Merlin_?" Arthur repeated in disbelief, just to make sure he'd heard correctly and he wasn't just looking for Merlin were he couldn't be found.

"So you  _do_  know him?" Gwen asked, placing the package down the desk. The return address was, in fact, Merlin's. When Arthur looked back up at her, she was shooting him a sly sort of smirk. "Someone special?"

"Yes," Arthur answered without thinking, and then he flushed. "I—No. Just . . . No one."

Her grin was growing with his every stumbling syllable. She didn't even try to politely hide it.

Arthur cleared his throat. "What's in it?"

"Don't know," she said. "I didn't open it. I didn't recognize the name, so I figured it must be personal. See for yourself."

With that, she fluttered out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Arthur stared at the parcel for a few seconds, like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it or thought it might contain a bomb. Finally, he shook himself into reality and realized, yes, the package was actually there, and reached for his letter opener.

When he'd cut through the tape and unfolded the cardboard flaps, he was presented with a teddy bear of the same golden color as the one Mordred had made for him. Only, this bear wore a felt, yellow crown with the ends velcroed together in the back and a red cloak around its neck. The certificate in the box had the Build-A-Bear logo on it, and it named the bear  _King Arthur_.

Arthur gaped at the stuffed animal. He picked it up out of the box, a bit unsurely, and squeezed it between his hands. It was soft and plush, and he actually found himself wondering if the satin heart inside was a solid red or had a checkered pattern.

He stood up from his desk and crossed the room to place the bear on the windowsill. The Thames sparkled behind the glass, and London's cityscape stretched on for miles. The bear, with its crown and regal cape, looked like a monarch observing his lands.

Arthur snapped a picture of it on his mobile and sent it to Merlin.

* * *

"You seem cheerier tonight," Morgana observed, topping off her wineglass as she sat in the chair next to Arthur. They were in her dining room while Mordred played video games in the living area.

She topped off Arthur's glass, too.

"I am," he told her, taking a sip. The wine tasted sweet. He usually preferred it bitter, but he didn't mind so much that night. He would have to ask Morgana what brand it was.

"Merlin?" she asked knowingly, holding the stem of her glass loftily.

Arthur tried not to turn a shade a pink. He stared blankly at her. "Now, what makes you think it has  _anything_  to do with  _Mer_ lin?" he shot back, but it was no use. His lips curved involuntarily around the name.

"Because," Morgana began, folding her arms on the table and leaning forward. "You're smiling more than you ever have in your entire life, little brother."

He shook his head, acting unamused. "I am  _not_ ," he protested into another pull of wine.

Before she could comment about how wrong he was, Mordred scampered in and tugged at Arthur's sleeve.

"Uncle Arthur, want to play boxing with me?"

Arthur looked down at the knuckles of his right hand. They weren't sore anymore, but Arthur thought it was a good idea to stay away from that game for a while. He was becoming much too good at it.

"Afraid I can't," he said apologetically.

"Golf, then?" Mordred insisted. "Bowling?"

"Rain check," Arthur said, standing up from the table and giving Mordred's hair a ruffle. "I should get going. I've got a board meeting tomorrow morning," he then told the both of them.

Mordred groaned in protest, which made Morgana laugh.

"Oh, I know, darling, you're uncle's no fun," she teased. Mordred moved towards her and she scooped him into her lap, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on his neck. "We'll make him a cool uncle some day, won't we?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but he was in too good of a mood to let it get to him.

"I'll see you later," he promised before biding them goodnight, collecting his coat, and heading out.

The initial chill of the air stung his cheeks when we stepped into the night and hustled down the stoop. His car was parked on the curb just a little down the street, passed Merlin's building. Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets for warmth and, as he walked, he glanced up at the dim glow of light on in a certain second floor flat.

His expression became soft as he watched it, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He imagined he saw Merlin's shadow on the walls as he milled about the flat, probably again in those loose, gray sweatpants. Arthur wanted so badly to ring Merlin's buzzer, but with each step closer to the building, his bravery diminished.

Soon, it was too late, and he was walking passed Merlin's stoop with his nose to the ground as he huddled in on himself.

And then he heard, " _Arthur_."

It was a little more than a whisper coming from above.

Arthur stopped walking immediately and looked up. He spotted Merlin sticking his head out the window, leaning into his folded arms on the windowsill and grinning downward with sparking eyes.

Arthur let out a deep exhale that fogged around his face before vanishing.

"I  _thought_  that was your car," Merlin said.

"Yes, I—I was just at Morgana's for dinner," Arthur told him, craning his neck to keep eye contact. It was a little bit of an awkward, painful position, but it was worth it. The cold was a lot less biting now, too.

"I got your parcel," Arthur added, making Merlin brighten even more.

"I saw," he said. "They didn't have any knight in shining armor costumes, but you said you weren't a knight anyway."

Arthur shook his head. "No, I'm not."

Merlin tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and regarded Arthur for a long pause. Arthur watched back.

"Do you want to come up for a drink?" Merlin asked eventually.

And, really, Arthur should be getting back. He had to wake up early for that very important meeting, and he'd already had a few drinks in him. It wouldn't do to be hung over in front of the other chairpersons, not to mention his father, if Uther even decided to sit in on that meeting.

But Merlin's smile shimmered like all the lights of London combined.

Merlin buzzed Arthur up and, a few minutes later, Arthur was sitting on the flat's old sofa while Merlin poured two tumblers of some cheap whiskey.

"So, um, how have you been, Merlin?" Arthur asked, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, as Merlin handed him one of the glasses.

Merlin shrugged and sat next to Arthur on the couch. He kicked one leg beneath the other and angled himself in Arthur's direction. It made Arthur turn more towards him, too. It felt close, intimate. The space between them seemed to vibrate, making itself all too apparent.

"Better," Merlin said honestly. He looked into the amber liquid and continued, "I haven't heard from Kanen since that day. I think you scared him off."

" _Oh_ ," Arthur answered vaguely, trying to gauge whether or not that was a good thing.

Merlin must have caught on to this, because he burst into a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm happy about that."

"Oh," Arthur said again. "Good. I'll drink that." He clinked glasses with Merlin and took a long pull of his whiskey. It was warm as it slid down his throat, and he was very aware of Merlin's eyes on him from over the rim his own glass. After the alcohol became too burning, Arthur set the glass on the coffee table.

"I'm glad he's left you alone," Arthur said. "When I hadn't heard from you, I admit, I was a little . . ."

"Worried?" Merlin supplied, raising his brows mischievously. His lips glistened with droplets of whiskey and Arthur couldn't stop his gaze from dragging down towards them.

"Fine, you've got me," Arthur conceded.

"I'm sorry I didn't phone. I was just—," Merlin gave an uncomfortable half-smile to his lap. "I was embarrassed."

"What for?"

"Well, because," Merlin said, distractedly running his fingertip in circles on the rim of his glass. "I was afraid you thought I was some stupid kid in over my head and couldn't take care of myself."

Arthur shook his head rapidly. "I don't think that."

"I know." His smile grew even bitterer. "But sometimes I think that about myself."

"You don't have to be embarrassed around me, Merlin."

Merlin's finger stopped moving. His eyes flashed up to meet Arthur's, shrouded by his lashes. It looked like he was trying to decide whether or not Arthur was being genuine.

"Yeah, I know that," Merlin said, almost under his breath, and nodded fractionally. "But I was. Because I like you. Why do you think I broke it off with Kanen right after we met?"

Arthur was pretty sure he was gaping. His mind went completely blank and he just stared—like an  _idiot_. Had he actually stopped breathing? Oh, get it together, Pendragon. Say  _something_!

But Arthur didn't have the chance to say anything at all. Merlin rushed him with a kiss. It was hard and deep and tasted like alcohol. Arthur wasn't sure where Merlin's whiskey glass had gone, but he felt something warm and wet soaking into his pant leg, so he guessed it must have toppled over upon impact.

Suddenly, Merlin stopped kissing him. He inched back sheepishly, his eyes horrified. Arthur realized his own eyes were very wide, too.

"Oh, god, I shouldn't have done that," Merlin breathed, more to himself than to Arthur. "I'm so sorry! You must—God, you must think I'm such a slut. I'm sorry, Arthur, I—"

"No, no," Arthur said, cutting him off. "I was surprised, is all."

"I shouldn't have just assumed," Merlin went on like Arthur's words hadn't even processed. He was in full panic-mode. "I'm  _really_  sorry, Arthur. I didn't mean—I'm just really sorry."

Arthur laughed. It wasn't a long laugh or a loud laugh or a pitying laugh. It was a short breath, disbelieving and so, very happy. "Shut up, Merlin," he said, and now it was his turn to surprise Merlin with a kiss.  He could actually feel Merlin's grin.

There was a lot of fumbling at first, teeth knocking together and tongues stumbling on one another and bitten lips. There was a learning curve to every new style of kissing, but they worked it out soon enough.

When they came up for air, both their breaths were ragged and hot enough to make the room a few degrees warmer if they breathed for too long. Merlin's lips were bruised and pink and wet, and his hair was sticking up messily where Arthur had run his fingers through it.

"So, I take it that means you like me, too?" Merlin joked.

Arthur blinked. "I punched the last guy you were sleeping with."

Merlin shrugged with his eyebrows. "Good point."

He moved in a little closer on the cushions and pulled Arthur back to his lips by the knot of his tie. Arthur didn't protest, and soon Merlin was yanking him down on top of him on the couch.

* * *

Arthur woke up to his mobile buzzing. He heard it from somewhere very far away and, when he was conscious enough to realize what it was, he had to half-dive off the mattress and scramble to find it in his trousers, which were still in a pile on the floor.

"Hello?" he said groggily into the receiver, not bothering to check who was calling before he answered.

"Arthur, finally!" It was Gwen. "Where are you? You said you'd be in early so I could brief you on the notes for today's meeting."

"Meeting?"

"The board meeting!" Gwen exclaimed, a bit too loudly for so early in the morning. Next to Arthur, Merlin shuffled and grunted. "You're father's going to be there!"

Arthur searched around for a clock. It was harder to find in this unfamiliar territory, but he eventually spotted a digital clock on the nightstand. It told him it was almost half passed seven in the morning.

"Of course," Arthur said, remembering. "I must have overslept. I'll be there in fifteen minutes," which really meant twenty-five. He ended the call and, instead of getting right out of bed, he rolled over to face Merlin.

Merlin was already staring at him tiredly, one cheek pressed against the pillowcase.

"Duty calls?" he asked, his tone lined with sleep.

"Afraid so," Arthur admitted.

"Just as well. I should get going, too."

"Got a shift today, have you?"

"Um, no," Merlin said, seeming sheepish again. "I've got an interview, actually . . . at a children's publishing house."

Arthur eyes lit up. "Merlin! That's incredible! Why didn't you tell me last night?"

Merlin chuckled as he said, "We were a bit busy, weren't we?"

"Fair point."

Arthur sat up in bed and kicked his legs over the side. He jumped into his trousers before picking up his wrinkled shirt and tie from the pile. There was nothing he could do about the creasing in his trousers, but he was lucky he kept a spare button down and tie in the office for a (literally) rainy day. He'd just have to change when he got there and try not to turn too pink when Gwen wondered after why he was wearing the same clothes from the day before.

"You'll have to tell me all about it," Arthur said, buttoning up his shirt. "Over dinner . . . if you want."

Merlin looked like he thought he was still dreaming.

"Yeah, that sounds great," he answered, obviously trying not to sound too giddy.

"Good." Arthur folded up his collar and draped the tie around his neck. He nodded it expertly. "Somewhere that's not Nando's."

Merlin rumbled with a giggle. "I'll let you pick the place this time, yeah?"

" _Yes_ ," Arthur said. He was ready to go, even though he didn't want to. "Good luck with your interview," he said, mostly just to stall.

Merlin got up and stood on his knees on the mattress to be level with Arthur. He pecked one chaste kiss to his lips.

"That's all the good luck I need," he said. Arthur thought about it for the rest of the morning.

* * *

On his lunch break, Arthur went to the shopping centre and did a beeline to Build-A-Bear. Since he knew Merlin wasn't working that day, it was his perfect opportunity.

He felt a little out of place, but he shoved the feeling down and marched straight passed the creepy, mechanical bear and to the till. Freya was behind it again.

"Welcome to Build-A-Bear Workshop," she told Arthur with a friendly smile. The shop was, for the most part, dead at that time of the day, which Arthur was thankful for. "How can I help you?"

"I, um—I'm here for a present for someone," he said to her.

"Brilliant! Are you looking for a gift card?"

"Um, no," Arthur said. His discomfort was rising by the second, but he remained strong. "I want to make a bear," he blurted out, getting over with.

She looked taken aback by the sheer determination of his words.

"Oh," she said. "Alright, sir, if you'll begin by picking out a friend—," she pointed towards the wall of unmade plushies, "—someone will be right along to help you."

"Okay," Arthur said, mentally preparing himself. He gripped the edge of the counter. "I'm not going to have to put a heart on my forehead and make a wish, am I?"

Freya open and closed her mouth a few times, letting out unsure noises.

* * *

Arthur hoped Merlin wasn't home yet. He went to Merlin's flat straight from the shopping centre and placed the cardboard box containing the bear on his stoop. He was confident that, when Merlin passed it, he'd know it was for him.

Then, Arthur snuck to Morgana's stoop and pushed himself close up against the door to hide.

His luck seemed to have held out, because a few minutes later, Merlin was walking down the street towards his building. He was wearing a black suit and tie that looked a little too big on him, like he was kid playing pretend with his dad's work clothes, but maybe Arthur just wasn't used to the sight. There was a little bit of a bounce in his demeanor, which told Arthur the interview had gone well. He felt a little surge of pride swell in his chest for Merlin.

When Merlin reached his stoop, he paused, obviously having spotted the box. He looked around him, up and down the road, and Arthur pressed his spine even further into the door. He watched Merlin walk tentatively up the steps and open the box.

The first thing he did was pick up the handwritten letter Arthur had enclosed, asking Merlin to meet him at a restaurant near St. Paul's, where Arthur had already made the reservations, that night.

He saw Merlin shake his head happily as he read the letter over. Merlin folded it back up and shoved it into his pocket before again bending over the box. He pulled out a black teddy bear, which wore a pointed, nighttime blue hat with a pattern of yellow stars. It wore a little robe to match.

_Merlin the Wizard_ , it was called.

Merlin stared at it for a very long time. Arthur couldn't be entirely sure of his expression from the distance, but Merlin appeared to be smiling. It wasn't his usual, ear-to-ear grin. It was softer, and a little breathless. Arthur thought it was his favorite of Merlin's smiles so far.

Arthur left when Merlin collected the box and went inside his flat. He crept back to his car and, just when he fitted into the driver's seat, his mobile buzzed with a text.

It was from Merlin.

_See you at 7 :)_

Arthur thought his cheeks might crack as he looked down at the screen. Even Merlin's text messages smiled.

**The End.**


End file.
